


Those Knees Work Fine

by Dynamic_Ideation



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Witty Banter, um i seriously have no idea what other tags to add to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynamic_Ideation/pseuds/Dynamic_Ideation
Summary: Ginny's not a fan of Mike calling himself an old man all the time. Somehow that ends with them in bed together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderer765](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderer765/gifts).



> I, too, am trash for this ship. I'm not asking any questions, I'm just going with it.
> 
> Happy birthday, Sugar Cookie!

_“You need to stop saying that.”_

_They sat in a dive bar on the outskirts of LA, nursing the wounds from their loss earlier that day. The condensation from the Miller bottle was gathering on Ginny’s fingertips. She rolled it between her palms, almost nervously._

_“Saying what?”_

_“That you’re old.”_

 

Maybe that was how they got here. Facing each other down in the watery moonlight streaming into Ginny’s hotel room, each wordlessly daring the other to make a move. 

The tension he understood. It had been there since the first time she marched onto the field, sticking out like a sore, painfully gorgeous thumb. When he first saw that dimpled face and x-rayed straight through that uniform to know she was built like a brick house, it was there. When they were arguing, it was there. When they were slapping each other’s asses, it was definitely there. Still, there was a softness, an affection. That's how he approached her when he ventured to touch her first; it was his fingertips touching the tender skin on the back of her arm, tracing lines down to her screwball-calloused fingertips. Mike leaned in to taste the beer on her full lips, and when she responded in kind he threw a beefy arm around her waist. He was elated when she raised her hands to cradle his face, her slim fingers tangled in his wiry beard. 

 

_“I’ll stop saying I’m old when I stop being old.” He knocked back the remainder of his Heineken and signaled the bartender for another. “Besides,_ you _always say I’m old.”_

_She sighed and softened. “I know. I say it to give you a hard time because you deserve it-“ he rolled his eyes fondly, “-but in the grand scheme of things, Mike, you’re still a young guy. You’re in the prime of your life when it comes to starting a new career, traveling, finding somebody special, settling down…” He noticed her eyes training the ground when she mentioned the latter two things. She fiddled with the sleeves of her slate Nike workout shirt. She never called him Mike to his face, though he knew she had him saved in her contacts that way._

_“You’re old for the game of baseball, because all pro sports require you to have a young body, and being so physical for so many years wears on you prematurely, but you’re not old.” She waved an exasperated hand at him to emphasize her point, and he could tell she was embarrassed. Admittedly it was cute, but still, he didn’t expect to find himself smiling at her._

 

She had pulled a classic Ginny Baker; afraid, but pretending she wasn't and determined to see this thing through. When she disrobed the sun broke out in the room, and Mike was temporarily blinded by the glory. He didn't have as much to offer her physically; he could only hope she liked them hard and beefy, but none of those thoughts stopped him from snatching himself bare so he could feel her skin against his.

After some slight awkwardness and plenty of shit talk, they found their groove. Things between then began to heat up fast, and Mike figured he better put on his best performance. He put his mouth to work, tonguing all the plains of Ginny’s perfect body, making her brown skin glisten with the wetness of his tongue. 

Ginny, for a short time, tried to hold back her moans as if this was some sort of contest; still just as competitive in the bedroom as on the diamond. Of course, Mike couldn't go for that. Soon he was wringing squeaks and whines out of her, high-pitched, silky sounds that hit him right in the head of his rock-hard dick. "I'm ready,” she whispered. So was he. 

 

_“So you’re here to rescue my self-esteem, is that it?”_

_“Shut up. No, I just say it ‘cause you make it sound like they’re gonna call the glue truck to come cart you away when you have so much to look forward to. When baseball’s over, you’ll still have a whole life to live.”_

 

Ginny rolled him over, taking his hard length in her hand and guiding the swollen, flushed tip to her center. Slowly she sank down-painfully slow-every inch driving Mike closer to the edge of insanity, until finally she’d buried him to his hilt. She bit her lip and screwed up her face, and Mike knew from how tight she was that it hurt her a little. He laid still, letting her adjust. She sighed and rowed her hips, just a tiny bit at first, until her wetness made the glide smoother.  Mike threw his head back, laughing against the lights bursting behind his eyelids. 

“Knew you could take it, Rookie.”

She was giving him that narrow-eyed look she liked to wear when they were flirting. “I can take whatever you’re dishing out, you asshole. Just like on the field.” She rode him faster, stroking longer, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“Always something to prove with this one,” he said to no one at all, jerking his thumb at her. 

A slim finger against his lips. “Shh. Focus, champ.”

He palmed her hips in his big hands and thrust up, not uncontrolled, but hard enough so she would feel him inside her the next day. Her perfect lips parted and her brows knitted together as her eyes rolled back. Watching her knead her breast as he answered his thrusts made him insane. He hoped he was making her see heaven up there. He held together the best he could, skimming the rough pad of his thumb over her delicate bead of flesh, hoping to god he was bringing her close, because he was. 

He flipped her, pressing her onto her stomach and gluing himself to her back, spreading his brawny body out to cover her, peppering her neck, her shoulder, her cheek with hot kisses while she gasped into the sheets. 

 

_Of course, the 23-year-old rookie he was mentoring was right. His knees, and the fact that he was older that 95% of the people in his profession made him a fatalist; made him think that once this particular era in his life was over, so was his entire life, but that wasn’t true. It would be hard because being a ball player was all he’d ever known, but he would find a new purpose and move on._ Well I’ll be damned _._ She’s mentoring me. 

 

Maybe that's how Ginny’s head came to be thrown back against the meat of his shoulder, eyes winched closed and cut off screams sneaking passed her well-bitten lips. Maybe that's why his heavily muscled form was now anchoring her to the bed, those bad knees of his having knocked hers apart, and now he was drilling her into the hotel mattress, a _smack_ sounding from his pelvis hitting the sweat-damp skin of her perfect pear-shaped ass with every thrust.

Every muscle in Ginny’s body tensed. Her back arched and her knees dug into the memory foam as she lifted herself ever-so-slightly in anticipation of her building orgasm. 

Mike reached around to press on her clit again, nosing her ear, kissing the delicate skin there, helping her over the edge. 

He felt it when the climax burst inside her, because her body went stiff then boneless, but her pussy went crazy. It did some sort of fluttering-squeezing-dancing thing that he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience. Ginny Baker was full of surprises. 

“Oh. Mike.” The words were a surprisingly soft, intimate whisper, contrasting with her spasming body. He felt closer to her in that moment than he ever had. 

Growling like an animal, he pulled out and jerked himself furiously, shooting white and hot on her perfect right asscheek. “Fuck.” It was all he could come up with to say. They were both stunned, frozen, until Ginny broke the silence. 

“Okay, that was kinda hot when you did it but now that it’s time for afterglow, not so much. Kinda sticky. ”

He patted her other cheek as he stood to grab a rag. “Don’t worry about it. I got your back. Get it? Your back?” he replied in his cocky Mike Lawson way.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“I thought it was.”

 

When it was over they laid wrapped up in each other, making out fiercely like it would be the last time they ever kiss. Maybe it would be. Maybe if they kissed hard enough, long enough, it would put off the shit storm that awaited them in the morning, when they tried to figure out exactly what they were going to do about the situation they found themselves in. Mike wasn't sure what to say about the life he still had to live; he wasn't sure if it was possible, but he wanted her in it. 

"See, you're not old; those knees work fine. Even if your beard does make you look like father time.” 

“I feel like there was a compliment in there somewhere. Are you applauding my performance? Careful, don’t get my ego too swelled up.” 

“Are you talking about your Goodyear blimp of an ego? I don’t think it _can_ get any bigger.” 

“Damnit, just let me have this, Baker.” Mike nipped her collarbone and enjoyed the way she giggled up at him. She was perfect, from her dimpled smile to her tight body to her stubborn personality.  He took her in as best he could, because tomorrow was another day. He wasn't sure if he would ever see her like this again.

 

 

 


End file.
